


Contusion

by madridog (FakeCirilla9)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Gen, Medical Procedures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakeCirilla9/pseuds/madridog
Summary: Just my version of how I think contusioned footballers behave
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Contusion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Concusión](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21383428) by [Tina001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tina001/pseuds/Tina001). 

Blood dripped onto the royal jersey, staining the pure white with red. He didn't have time to change as they carried him off the pitch, stuffed with painkillers and escorted to the nearest hospital. A broken nose had hurt like hell, but once the medicine kicked in, it turned into no more than an unpleasant sting. Which allowed Sergio to came back to his usual self.

"Can you turn on that TV? I need to watch how the match ends."

"Sir, I don't think it's a good idea to watch the television now. Neither noise nor the flashy image are particularly advisable in your state."

"What state? I was punched in the nose, not in the eye. I can still see."

"You were kicked by a cleat in the face. Doesn't your head hurt?"

"It will start hurting if the bastards win," sulked Sergio. "Show me the game."

The doctor rolled his eyes, but turned on the screen. He choose the muted option and leaned back to his patient. Sergio squirmed to the side to ogle at the match around the medic's white coat.

"Could you hold still for a moment?" the doctor snapped finally, his patience run off. "You're fidgeting like a child."

"Could you move a bit to the side?" deadpanned Sergio. "You're obscuring the view."

"Fine! You will have the bone knit askew!"

"Oh, come on. What are you, a culé? Just sit here next to me and enjoy what's left of the second half. Damn, that was close!" Last words were directed at the screen, where Real missed another great chance for a goal.

The doctor actually sat next to him.

"They'll have a corner though," he commented. 

They watched in silence for a while, until the play got less engaging again, the ball simply exchanged in the middle of the pitch, getting no closer to any of the goals. The cotton pads stuck in Sergio's nose begun to leak blood again. He leaned his head backward.

"No! Don't do this," the doctor surged for the pads' replacement. "The blood should not get to your brain."

"Thanks, mister House." Sergio said, accepting fresh tissues. The guy had a name written on his ID card upon his breast, but Sergio couldn't be bothered to read it. The letters were blurry, maybe thanks to the drugs.

"Do you want more painkillers?"

"Nah, I think they gave me more than enough."

"Perhaps took your show a bit too literary."

"What?" Sergio frowned.

"Oh, nothing," the doctor shrugged. "It's just that I always found your falls in penalty areas too theatrical to be real."

Sergio looked daggers at him.

"You're a culé," he judged. "Or Geri's distant cousin. Or both."

"You wanted to watch the game, no? Watch it, so we can move on to fixing your nose and running CAT and RTG."

"Speak Spanish to me."

"Scans of your head."

"Should've started with that instead of showing off with fancy abbreviations," muttered Sergio, returning his full attention to the match.


End file.
